


Malevolence

by zoeyschwabbles



Category: Crossing Lines
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Crime Fighting, Cross-cultural, Dark Past, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epic Friendship, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Foreign Language, Graphic Description, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Ship It, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, Investigations, Medical Procedures, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Relationship Problems, Religious Cults, Religious Discussion, Russia, Sister-Sister Relationship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, Teasing, Threats of Violence, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyschwabbles/pseuds/zoeyschwabbles
Summary: Ekaterina Alekseyevna Mikhailov:Russian NationalICC Tokyo Team (Secondary Team) - InvestigatorBorn October 12th, 1992- linguist expert- fluent in 15 languages- cultural and religious studies expert- medical field training- led missing person's unit in Russia- studies and deescalation of the occult and cult practices (religious and non)- trained survivalistPer Major Daniel's request (ICC Hague Team), Mikhailov transferred her expertise to the first responding team based in the Netherlands after the sudden and sorrowful loss of one of Daniel's leading investigators. "Katya" as she goes by, has been brought unto the team due to her diligence, intelligence, and determination throughout the years of her work both in Russia and Japan, where the secondary team is stationed. Due to her extensive knowledge of the underground workings of her home country and those who operate it, she has been asked to join a team in desperate need.
Relationships: Tommy McConnel/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Character Introduction: Face Claims

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I want to immediately say thank you for taking the time to read something that is truly a passion project for me. I want to remind any and all readers that the original additions to this story are completely fictional and not an accurate depiction of the world as it is today.   
> Our main character, Katya, was born and raised in Russia. The workings of the country in this story are false and do not depict the country or its people by any means. Please note that the last thing I want to do is offend anyone of this culture and country, and even though I have extensively done my research on aspects, I realize that some may be completely off from real life. If there's a mistake in any way, please feel free to let me know! I appreciate any criticism I receive to make this story better.  
> In this story, Russia has closed down borders to secure national information and thus personal records, business transactions and all around internet articles and even news coverage has been banned from the outside world. To make it short, nobody outside of Russia knows anything about Russia after (according to my fictional story) closed its borders in the early 80's. Again, this information is completely false to real life. I only added this in to make her character more interesting and more helpful to the team. And once again, feel free to correct me on anything that may seem too off in any area of the story. Thank you!  
> Also, please be aware that I'll be writing some sections of the story in different languages as the team ventures to different countries. The translation will be in () right after the sentence for English speakers.  
> Disclaimer over: You can enjoy the fiction now :) thanks for reading, friends!

Characters: Eastern ICC Team

Katya Mikhailov - Russia

Saanvi Dhar - India

Adao Farra - Portugal 

Khione Dumont - Belgium

Carter Leighton - United States of America

Gamba Ngwenya - Zimbabwe 

Milaniah Giudice - Italy

Dina Khoury - Egypt

Jiaying Zhao - China

Holland Quinn - Ireland 

Mylo Nyberg - Sweden

Ziggy Allard - France

Tadao Takahari - Japan

Rowan Macinroy - Scotland

Jackson Lykaios - Greece

Edlynne Kask - Estonia

Maritza Garcia - Peru

Dane Tanner - Finland


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, you're up early."

I rolled my eyes as I walked past Adao, who had his head shoved in his computer. Without looking up to address him, I replied, "Of course. How could I miss the opportunity to talk to such a ray of sunshine at five in the morning?"

He glared at me. Adao wasn't particularly a morning person, but I wasn't either, so when the stars aligned and Major brought us in for a new assignment in the dead hours of the morning, we either wanted to collectively kill everyone else or each other.

"Glad to know you're still a bitch in the morning. I was beginning to think it was only when the full moon came out," he monotonely explained.

I smirked. "Glad to know your insults are still lacking."

He shook his head, staring down at his empty coffee cup. I took the liberty in arriving at my desk across the room, turning on my computer and plopping down in my desk chair.

My eyes scanned the room, noticing that Adao and I were the only ones there. 

"Hey, is there a reason everyone else is late?" I asked Adao as he tiredly rested his head on his hand.

"Because they weren't called in. I'm only here for the paperwork."

"So, why am I here?"

"Katya, it's too early for any understandable conversation."

"If I can go-"

Footsteps quickly sounded down the hall, only two people I would've guessed.

I expected to see someone from the team but instead, Major and a man I had never seen before stepped inside the main office space.

Adao and I made eye contact, having an entire conversation in a matter of seconds.

'Who's that?'

'I dont know.'

'You dont know?'

'Does it look like I get out at all?'

I quickly recognized Khione, the leader of our team in Tokyo. She was closely followed by a taller man, average sized, non threatening. Black hair, slightly graying, showing clear age of a late forties to early fifties man. Skin starting to age, lines around the mouth and forehead, dictating either stress or age or both. He walked with purpose, telling me he was someone important.

Khione approached my desk. "Thanks for coming in, Katya."

"No problem... but what am I here for?"

"I have someone who would like to speak to you," she glanced over to Adao. "Alone."

Eyes wide, Adao moved to stand but the newcomer held up a hand. "There's no need."

I picked up on a heavy French accent, which led me nowhere other than that he didn't belong in Tokyo with my team.

He turned to me, smiling. Friendly enough. He held out a hand to me. "Major Daniel. I operate the ICC team in The Hague."

So, he operated the first response team of the ICC. For three years, I had been working with the secondary team who handled all of the assignments the first responders either didn't want or didn't have time for. It wasn't exactly dignitarian that we got the scraps of the ICC, but we worked with what they gave us the best we could.

I was surprised when I had heard that the ICC team was only six to a team in The Hague while our team in Tokyo acquired eighteen in it's time. However, the ICC had been made and sent to the west and we were all shipped off to the east.

There was just an unspoken knowledge that those above us thought less of our team because we were "secondaries." A childish notion really, the competition factor, but it becomes frustrating when one is given all the glory for all encompassing achievements and everything that goes wrong for both gets thrown down our throats by the media. The secondaries are the outcasts, the ones who pick up the mess after the more important guests are done fucking around.

It didn't always anger me the most, but it did put a sour taste in my mouth when something went wrong for the ICC team. I just knew they would throw it on us to keep their image clean, and why was I surprised? To the outside world, everyone only knew of one team. They didn't know we had a backup. The people of Japan probably didn't even know. We were the ones to come out of the shadows, do our jobs and then crawl back to where we came.

Either way, I didn't know what to make of Major Daniel when he introduced himself.

I took his hand, replying with a smile, "Ekaterina Mikhailov, sir."

Khione took the liberty of listing off my specialties to the Major who stood with eyes wide as he took in the years of schooling I had to do to earn that degree of success.

"Detective Mikhailov came to us from the Russian Republic Police Force in Moscow working their missing person's unit. Cultural and religious studies, medical field training, fifteen fluent languages, and an expert in occult investigations, search and rescue, and deescalation tactics."

"That's quite the resume," Major Daniel replied, smiling at me.

"Well, Russia demands extensive learning to be a cop," I agreed.

"So I've heard."

"Mikhailov is the best we have on the team," Khione urged, trying to sell me up. I looked over to Adao, who had made a face at Khione's accusation.

I laughed, turning to the Major. "Sir, I'm going to have to disagree with that. We work as a team, here. Everyone needs everyone. There's no one less than the other."

Adao gave me a thumbs up, plopping back down in his chair.

The Major laughed, eyes meeting the ground. "I can appreciate that. However, I came to speak directly to you."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Your work on the last case your team received did not pass by me. Our chief prosecutor, Dorn, was highly impressed with how you took a case the ICC could not complete and took it upon yourself and your team to finish it before others got hurt. You took the lead in an undercover operation to put the group behind bars and did so using not much more than your own knowledge."

My eyes widened as I remembered the case, vividly. It wasn't that I just plucked that one out of the shred pile at the ICC. That case was Russian, only something that one of their own could find the evidence for.

Russia had been locked up years ago. Their files on people, places, events. All gone and stored away for no one outside of Russia's government to ever see. Of course, I could figure that case out. I was the only Russian in the entirety of the ICC. It wasn't some huge success. It was where I came from.

"I would like to ask you to join our team, Detective," Major Daniel finished, clasping his hands together.

"I- just leave my team?"

"Move up to the ICC team in The Hague. We could very much benefit from your talent and skill."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm not leaving my team for anything."

Khione's eyes went wide, wondering why I was refusing to move up to the first responding team. Major Daniel seemed not at all fazed, however, as he simply smiled again, lightly laughing.

"This is my family. I've been with them for three years. I only work the way I do because I'm with them. We're a team, all of us," I finished.

"I completely understand," Major Daniel replied, eyes bright. "My team is the same way. They work best when counting on each other. However, we have a new case and we could really use your help."

I sighed, leaning forward on my desk as thoughts ran rampant through my already dizzy memory.

"Ekaterina," he started.

"Katya," I interrupted. My head snapped up at him. "Just... Katya."

"Katya," he corrected. "I recently lost one of my own. About two weeks ago, during a case, she had been shot and killed."

"I'm... I'm very sorry to hear that."

"It's never easy to lose family. I completely understand. And asking you to move up from one team to the other is asking you to leave your family here and move to The Hague with me and my team. My family. That's unfair, it is, but Katya, I am losing family. One of my best was killed, and I don't want to lose another one."

I became silent, Khione's eyes on mine, trying to decipher what was going through my head.

"I believe you are one of the most talented cops I've ever seen. And if you could join the ICC in The Hague, then maybe we'd be able to save more family, rather than lose them."

My eyes met his, deep brown meeting ocean blue. He was desperate, sad, I could see it in his eyes. But, how would the team react if I just up and left for the team that had given us nothing but shit the past years? They would feel betrayed. Like one of their own had gone rogue.

I turned to Khione. "I need to talk to them, first."

She nodded and Major Daniel spoke up. "Of course. I wouldn't expect you to make any decisions without consulting your team."

He turned to Khione. "Thank you for having me." Then turning to me, "I'm in Tokyo until Saturday night. Please, give me an answer before then. Major Dumont has my phone number."

He held out his hand to me again. "It was a pleasure meeting with you, Detective Mikhailov."

I took it. "And you, Major Daniel."

"Please, call me Louis."

I nodded, remaining silent until his footsteps reached the front door of the office.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are enjoying the story so far. The team makes their first appearance in the next chapter, so no more waiting anymore. Hope you guys are in it for the slow burn because it's gonna be a long ride haha

"They're not gonna like this," I exclaimed.

"It's not about them, Katya," Khione explained. "It's about you. If you want this."

"I can't just give up my team, Khione. What would that make me?"

"Ambitious, adventurous, a woman looking for a rise in her career?"

She looked over to me, her bright eyes glancing over mine. "I call you what you are, Katya."

"You called me here for this team. For this opportunity. I pledged to be here for it."

"You seem to be finding every excuse in the book to not take this job," she concluded.

"Well, yeah!" I exclaimed, standing up from my desk chair. "Khione, this is practically my family and-"

"And there's another one that needs your help, right now," she calmly finished.

Part of me wanted to scream at her, at her bringing Major Daniel in to talk to me, at her trying to tell me that this was all a great idea. She was too calm, too articulate about it, which shouldn't have surprised me.

Khione is the leader of our team, our own Major. A thirty-three year old Belgian with dyed grey hair and bright green eyes, she stands out among any crowd. She demands attention, even when she isn't speaking.

No wonder Louis listened to her. She was the one in charge. The one with the level head. The one who started the secondary team in the first place.

"So, that's it?" I asked. "Call Louis, tell him I want the job, leave everything behind, and go join another team that doesn't know me from a nail in the wall?"

She gave me a stinted smile. "Precisely."

I groaned as the door to the office opened, allowing everyone on the team to come in for the day.

All eighteen were gathered around their desks when Khione motioned for me to speak and everyone else to be quiet.

"Oh god, does Katya have a motivational speech for today?" Carter asked, laughing into his coffee cup.

"I think I'm alright for today," Holland jokingly agreed, her thick Irish accent bouncing across the walls.

"Guys, come on," Tadao interrupted. "It looks important." He smiled at me, his eyes brightening as they met my worried gaze.

Tadao had always been one of the closest members of the team to me. He was the first one I had formally met, and when I had moved to Tokyo, he was the one who let me stay with him until I found my own place.

He was sweet. Maybe a little rough on the outside with the daily business attire and the stone walled facial expressions, but he was worth the friendship.

Tadao was the Japanese detective who partnered with Khione to start the ICC here. He was a decorated officer young, graduated young, earned respect and prestige young. Everything about him screamed upper class, yet he was as down to earth as a man living in a box.

He was the first one of the team to make me feel at home.

I smiled back at him, hoping that was enough thanks. My gaze fell down to my hands where I wrung my fingers together absentmindedly. "So, a guy came into work yesterday morning, asking to speak to me. He introduced himself as the operator of the ICC team in The Hague."

A couple scowls fell across the faces scattered around the room. Holland sneered at the mention of his title, which would have made me laugh if I wasn't so damn nervous for what I was about to say.

"He asked me to join his team there. Said one of his officers had been shot and killed a couple weeks prior on their last investigation."

"Wait, he asked you to join the team?" Rowan, our Scottish undercover operations specialist, asked.

"Yeah, he said that I'd be able to help them figure out this new case. He said I'd be a good help to them."

"Well, of course you'd be a good help to them," Carter, our American weapons specialist, added, scoffing.

"Yeah, a good help to their press," Holland sneered.

"Listen, I didn't know what to say to him. I wanted to wait until I could talk to the team as a whole," I explained.

"So, you didn't say 'yes'?" Our French officer, Ziggy, asked. She sounded disappointed.

"I didn't say anything yet. He said I had until Saturday night."

It was silent, everybody locked in their own thoughts when Ziggy blurted out, "you should do it."

Holland's bright blue eyes widened to the size of the moon, her red hair almost on fire with rage. "Why should we give them anything, much less one of our most talented officers? They drag us through the mud on the daily!"

"This isn't about them, Holland," Ziggy argued, her voice as soft. "This is about Katya and the opportunities this could bring her. And don't you think that if they worked with someone from our department, that maybe they'd find some respect for us? After all this time?"

"That's highly unlikely. They don't give a fuck about us!"

"Maybe not, but either way, that's not what this is about."

"So, you're thinking about it?" Tadao asked, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

"I'm... considering, I guess," I caved.

Holland threw up her hands, retreating to her desk.

Everyone else stayed quiet, waiting for a differing opinion.

"You should go," Jackson agreed from the back of the room. "For you. You deserve a win after all your hard work and you won't get it here."

A rough smile pulled at his lips, as if he were fighting to keep his emotions down.

Jackson had come from Greece, a genius in the medical field. Half of the time he worked with the team and the other half he stayed at the local hospitals, helping any and all doctors who needed him.

We had grown close to each other quickly, even though we had to be polar opposites. I would be lying if I said we hadn't been involved before, nothing but a few mistakes, but there were still nights that I found myself in his apartment.

It was this on and off again bullshit that neither of us wanted to address, so it stayed that way until one day, I just broke it off for good. After that, we were never really the same. Not close, not talking, not even really friends anymore. So, it was no surprise he wanted to see me leave.

"That what all of you think?" I asked.

Some nods from across the board made up my mind. I turned to Khione who had her phone already in her hands.

"What's the number?"


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally arrived to meet the team! :)

"You seem nervous."

Louis's voice snapped me out of my daze as the train led us to The Hague. He wasn't wrong. My fingers started to shake in my jacket pocket hours ago.

I couldn't help but wonder if I made a mistake. A monumental lapse in my judgement, if you will. 

"I just hope if I made the right decision," I admitted, staring out the window as the greenery passed by in a blur.

"We'll be lucky to have you, Katya," Louis replied, trying to meet my averted gaze.

I stayed silent, nodding slowly as the train carried on across Europe.

~~~

"Not as cozy as I imagined," I joked, opening the back of Louis's car to grab my laptop bag.

"Did you imagine a five star hotel?"

"Just something a little less, depressing looking."

"You know, I was inside the Tokyo building."

"But Tokyo has class," I explained, hoisting the bag over my shoulder.

Louis laughed, shaking his head as he locked the car, leading the way inside the building.

"Does the team know I'm coming?" I asked ahead.

"Yes, they've known since Wednesday."

"I told you I'd do it on Friday. You that cocky?"

He smirked, turning around to face me at the door. "Call it intuition."

"I'll stick with what it is, sir," I added, claiming a playful smile.

The air of The Hague was cold, bitter as it whipped against my face. The sun was blotted out by the clouds, causing the sky to turn a deepest color of grey as storm clouds rolled in. The city was bustling, people running down the sidewalks, cars honking at each other as if in a language. I wasn't overwhelmed, it was just... different for sure.

Louis led me down a set of brick stairs into a main office where five detectives milled around, talking and laughing. As soon as my heels hit the ground, however, all eyes turned to me.

I would love to say they were all friendly but some already put me on guard.

A particular man in the back of the room housed a scowl that I could tell was made just for me. How lucky.

"I'd like to introduce Ekaterina Mikhailov to the ICC team properly. She's from the headquarters in Tokyo and has come here per my request. She's a decorated officer from the Russian Republic and has been kind enough to offer her services to our investigation."

Everyone's eyes were on Louis but as soon as he stopped talking, questions came rolling in.

"You're Russian?" A German man asked from his desk. He eyes scanned me, as if I was a puzzle to him.

"Yeah, born and raised."

"We've never had a Russian here before," an Italian woman commented, smirking at the German's question.

"No, I imagine that's why you're all looking at me like that." The Italian smiled at my attempt at a joke, holding out her hand as she approached me.

Her red hair fell around her shoulders, framing her petite face. A kind smile formed across her lips and her green eyes held a kindness that seemed too good to be true.

"I'm Eva Vittoria. Italian Police."

I took it, smiling back as the German stepped forward next.

"Sebastian Berger... from Germany."

I struggled to hold in the smile at his awkwardness towards me. "Yeah, I could tell from your accent."

His face turned a deep shade of red as he opened his mouth to speak, but to no avail.

"You'll have to excuse Sebastian. He couldn't know how to introduce himself if someone else did it for him," an Asian woman reasoned as she walked towards me, smile on her face and arm outstretched.

"Wow, already off to that kind of start today," Sebastian remarked.

"I'm Anne-Marie," she introduced.

"Katya."

She had something about her that I couldn't quite pin down. An aura of calm? A sweet smile? Either way, she carried the same comfort that Eva had when she first introduced herself to me.

"I didn't know we brought in secondaries," an Irish voice piped up from the background. Already, I knew this was someone I was going to but heads with. I could be nice when I wanted to, but I didn't do disrespect, especially to my friends.

I moved away from Eva and Sebastian, who were both eyes closed, heads down-turned, waiting for the storm to pass.

My eyes met the same man that gifted me that marvelous scowl as soon as I had arrived.

"I didn't know the ICC hired children to work in their offices," I fired back, angry already at his toddler like behavior.

He scowl only deepened as I spat back. "We don't need a replacement for Sienna. And if we did, we wouldn't have picked someone from the lower levels."

"Lower levels?" I scoffed. "I'm the lower level? Because based on your pretentious need to form conflict with those you hardly know, that tells me that you have some lower level issues. Protectiveness but not of others, more so yourself. I'm guessing self esteem issues? Or maybe just people issues? They fuck you over so you fuck them over before they get a chance? Or maybe it's just a good ol' case of daddy issues. But either way, your loose stance and tight expression shows a play to me. You want to intimidate me? Try harder."

I turned to Major Louis, who held the same expression as Eva and Sebastian.

"I'm here because your Major asked me to be. I'm not here as your joke. I'm here as a detective who was asked to help get a job done. A job-" I stared down the Irishman. "-that you obviously can't do. So, let the lower level do it and drop the act while you're at it."

He was fuming at that point, ready to scream back at me and make an even bigger scene. He didn't expect me to fire back, to make him look like the asshole that he was. He didn't think a little Russian girl could bend his big boy ego. Well, his entire team may put up with his shit, but I sure as hell wouldn't.

"Any other smart comments?" I asked, arms open, waiting for the mountain of insults. Instead, he slammed his open laptop closed and left the room.

It was silent and that's when the guilt started to take over. "I'm sorry," I said, turning to Louis. "I-"

"Don't be sorry. That was amazing," an American voice laughed as he came to shake my hand... with his left.

"I'm Carl Hickman. Practically new as you are to the team."

"I'm guessing you deal with him like that, too?"

"He was even worse when I met him, but that's just Tommy. He needs some time to cool off."

"Tommy was with Sienna when she passed. She was the officer who had been killed in action," Louis explained to me.

"That would explain a lot," I replied, shortly.

"Part of it is grieving," Sebastian remarked. "The others are just Tommy."

"Oh, great," I groaned.

~~~

I had taken the liberty of grabbing a coffee while waiting for the team to break down the case in the conference room. And wasn't I so lucky to see Tommy in the room there with me?

I decided to just keep quiet, knowing just me opening my mouth could start a screaming match.

I moved past him to the coffee machine, noticing when he poured liquor from a flask into his.

Oh, the joy of stereotypes.

"Something bothering you?" He asked, malice in his voice as he caught me watching.

I shook my head. "No."

"If you've another philosophical analysis, go ahead, let's hear it."

"It wasn't anything philosophical. It's called analyzing your opponent."

"So, we're opponents?"

"You'd call us friends?"

He shook his head, smirking down at his cup. He leaned against the wall, not making any move to leave the room, so I guess it was my turn to leave.

I grabbed my coffee cup and started my way down the hallway, but I stopped a little ways down, calling back to Tommy, "Hey."

His head peeked around the corner, eyebrows furrowed as he stared me down.

I breathed in a sigh, knowing this could make everything even worse if he didn't take it right.

"I'm sorry about your partner."

He seemed taken aback at what I had said, but I was gone and down the hall before he could say anything in return.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, yesterday in Amsterdam, a real estate developer died of a mysterious illness. Doctors think it's a virus but the victim's daughter, a fashion model, insists foul play," Eva started, meeting eyes with everyone sat around the conference table.

She turned to address Major Daniel. "Now, in the boxes you asked us to look at, I found a case from last month in Germany and same symptoms - also a rich man - only in Germany the family found a vial in the apartment that looks like it could hold poison."

"The vial was tested, but the results were inconclusive, and there was a similar case in Venice five months ago," Sebastian spoke up, leaning against the wall.

"I went through the Italian police reports... same symptoms," he finished.

"How did you get into Italian police reports?" Eva questioned, glancing over to me before turning to Sebastian.

I simply hung back in my chair, taking the information in. This wasn't my team, so unless I had important shit to add to the investigation, I kept my mouth shut. Especially since everyone saw where it got me with Tommy.

Sebastian smiled, shrugging. "It wasn't hard to hack into their computer systems."

"Well, remind me to tell them to do a cyber security check," she replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I'd still get in."

I could tell just from the way they spoke, they were family to each other. It was like walking in on a family reunion... and you're the third time removed cousin.

"How does the German family know that the vial wasn't something already there?" I asked.

"They had the same cleaning woman for about thirty years and paid her a fortune so she wouldn't leave," Sebastian answered, resting his hands on the back of one of the chairs.

"Have you located her?" Louis asked.

"That's another odd twist. She's in the hospital herself."

"Should we check it out?" Eva asked, already gathering her notes together.

"It's definitely cross border. I'll have to clear it with Dorn," Major replied, the wheels turning in his mind as he made a game plan for who goes where. "In the meantime, Sebastian, I need you to go to the latest scene in Amsterdam with Eva."

"What do you want me to do?" Tommy spoke up, for the first time in this whole session mind you.

"I need you and Katya in Germany."

If I could've rolled my eyes back into my head so far they rolled into another dimension, I would have.

"Carl, would you go with Sebastian and take a look at the scene?"

"Sure."

As everyone started to head out, Major and I made eye contact. He could tell I wasn't exactly ecstatic about working with the man I had almost killed earlier.

"You two need to get along," he grinned, obviously proud of himself.

"You say that like we're children," I smiled back, gathering my coat in my arms.

He nodded, leaving me to join the rest of the team outside.

~~~

Everything up until boarding the train had been peaceful, easy. Sure, I drove with Tommy to the train terminal but we didn't dare speak a word to each other the entire way there. It gave me good intuition for the ride ahead. Six hours stuck on a train didn't seem so bad when there was no awkward conversation involved but sadly, when we boarded, he had other plans.

It was calm and quiet for about twenty minutes. That was it. Twenty minutes into a six hour train ride.

"You're from the ICC team in Tokyo?" He asked, relaxed back in his seat across from me.

"I thought you knew that," I replied, tucking my phone away.

"How long have you been with them?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because the Major wants us to be able to be in the same room as one another, so even though you're the last person I would want on the sniper roof behind me, I've gotta play nice," he finished with a bite.

"What the hell is your problem with me anyway?"

He scoffed, eyes averted to the passing scenery outside the window.

"Don't scoff at me like a toddler. I would've been just fine with you if you hadn't started talking shit."

His eyes met mine. "I don't want to talk about it."

"So, nothing? No explanation for why you're the biggest fuck on the planet to me? Cause you don't even know me."

"I know a lot about you and your _team,_ " he snarkily replied.

I leaned back in my chair, mouth agape. "Care to step into detail?"

"You give the entire ICC a shite reputation. Everything that comes out of the Eastern ICC is a fuckup. And we always wonder why everywhere we go, people have something to say."

I almost jumped out of my chair.

I leaned in close, my arm resting on the table between us. "You know that all of that bad press? All of that "shite reputation"? That comes from you and your team, asshole."

He smiled, huffing out a "sure" laugh.

"You really think you're perfect? What about your last Belgian's cocaine addiction that got him kicked? What about your last 'weapon's expert' that didn't even know how to hold a pistol and got three of his teammates shot and killed on the spot? What about the hire of an _American_ for a spot on the Europol ICC team? Or even better yet, what about the hire and permanent residence of one Tommy McConnel from one of Ireland's largest crime families?"

He opened his mouth, but I held up a finger, daring him to speak.

"You don't get shit for that. We do. You don't get bad press for that. We do. You don't get _blamed_ for your mistakes. _We_ do. You've been treated like royalty compared to us, so shove your 'secondary' language up your own ass and suck my dick, asshole."

I left in a rage, pissed off to a whole new level. How was it that this random Irish dipshit was able to get on my nerves so much? I could deal with hate. We got it all the time working at the Eastern ICC, so why the hell was he making me stalk away in a blind fury just to get the fuck away from him?

I just couldn't take it. The ignorance. Who the fuck believes everything the news tells them? Especially if you're a goddamn cop.

I didn't even know where I was going. Just somewhere else. Anywhere else where I could spend the next six hours away from Tommy.

~~~

I ended up in the train car bathroom. I locked myself in, promising to stay until someone was desperate.

I pulled out my phone, staring down at the flurry of text messages from my team.

_Three new messages from_ **Zig**

_Two new messages from_ **Dina**

_Eight new messages from_ **Jackson**

_One new message from_ **Khione**

The list seemed to go on and on until I was staring down at all of my teams' contact names and their multiple messages.

I braced myself for the worst, counting the number of contacts just to make sure everyone was still alive. When I counted thirteen, I breathed a sigh of relief.

_At least everyone's alive._

I opened Khione's first, knowing she'd get straight to the point.

_Check the news. Channel 8. Look for our name._

My heart started beating, racing faster than the damn train had to be going. I fumbled trying to get to the news, frantically scrolling through diseases, drug raids, and trade dealings until I hit it.

A news article from FOX that bolded the headline: **Eastern ICC Team to Blame for Death of Member During Rescue Mission: Fate to be Decided of Continuation or Dismissal of Team as a Whole**

I wanted to scream. Throw my phone. Throw a chair at whoever wrote this piece of utter trash. Throw this news article at Tommy's head to show him exactly what the fuck I meant.

_Talk about timing, Jesus Christ._

I was too scared to even open the article, the words " **Dismissal of Team as a Whole** " still playing in my head like a broken record.

I knew it would be bullshit. Lies as they always were. No one on our team had even passed since four years ago due to a drug overdose incident at our member's home.

Opening the article, my fears were realized.

" _On November 4th, 2019, the International Criminal Court, also known as the ICC, was called to action when a killer struck in Paris. In order to catch the moving murderer, the team decided to catch and arrest him at a park in Central Germany, where he planned to strike again._ _The_ _team_ _left_ _as heroes, however, not everyone left unscathed. One of the Western team's members, a_ _female_ _investigator_ _from Scotland Yard, named Sienna Pride, was shot and_ _killed_ _in action by the perpetrator._

_Many believe this was simply a freak accident, but other's pull the Eastern ICC team into the mix, saying_ _that_ _the Eastern team is the brains_ _behind_ _the operation, and they should have been more careful with how to guide Inspector Pride in her investigation. Many say that without the Eastern ICC's_ _intervention_ _in Inspector Pride's work that night, she would still be alive_ _and_ _celebrated like everyone else._

_Instead, she stays six feet underground, and someone has to be held at fault. The public has decided, and now the fate of the Eastern ICC team rests in the balance of a court order to be held within the next month. Either the ICC team_ _based_ _on Tokyo will admit to their_ _faults_ _and to their role in the death of Inspector Pride and be forgiven or be disbanded as a group of_ _distanced_ _cops from around the world with no sense of security or that of the_ _person_ _. The Eastern ICC team has made many past mistakes and it seems to be_ _time_ _to make them_ _pay_ _for them."_

There were practically pages to that article, but my brain had stopped processing after that. Our fault? Sienna's death was our fault?

Everything in that article was a lie! From how we're the brains of the operation to how many mistakes we've made to taking responsibility? What responsibility? We didn't do anything. We weren't _allowed_ to do anything except take the paperwork and give the glory.

I scrolled through my texts... all the same thing.

- _"_ _Can you believe that shit?_ _They're_ _pitting it all on us again and this time we're actually gonna pay for it."_

_-"Did you see the news? What are we going to do."_

_-"Has anyone there said anything about it?"_

_-"Were they in on this shit?"_

The same texts, over and over. I couldn't respond to any of them. Did they know? Is that all the ICC did was pit their mistakes on us, and now they finally upped the ante?

I left the bathroom, unable to handle the claustrophobic air any longer. I didn't want to return to my seat, but there was no other choice. I just had to suck it up and deal with it. 

As soon as I walked back over to my seat, Tommy's gaze was glued to his phone. I sat down, sure I was about to either pass out or throw up. I rested my head on my hand, eyes closed as the room spun around me.

"Hey, you okay?" Tommy's voice greeted me through the sickly green fog eating at my brain. It was odd. He didn't sound angry for once. Instead, his voice was calming, concerned. I chalked it up to my brain being practically jello at that point so I could've heard God talking to me for all I knew.

I tried opening my eyes only to be gifted a piercing headache. I shook my head, rubbing at the bridge of my nose to try and relieve some of the pain.

"What happened in there? You look pale as a ghost."

He had moved to the seat next to me, resting the side of his hand against my face.

"You're not warm," he concluded, puzzled as he spoke to himself.

"Mmm, not sick," I mumbled out.

"Then what is it? You look like you're about to pass out."

"This happens when... it'll pass, don't worry."

"Alright, just... lay down or something."

My head hit the seat before I could even figure out I was moving. The sickness would pass. It had to. It usually came in spurts, anyway. 

I remember Tommy reaching around me to pluck my phone from under my head and place it on the table. I also vaguely remember the weight of his coat when he laid it across me while I slept.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had already set when I woke up. My sickness had subsided, allowing me to finally feel normal again, but I was terrified to start moving in case it were to come back.

I laid there, completely still and silent. My eyes glanced up to see Tommy, head in his hands on the table. The light from his phone glowed in front of him.

I started to move, hoping my immense headache would stay away this time. Tommy's head snapped up to see me awake and functional again.

"I didn't know if you were still alive." I would normally think that was a joke, but the way he said it made me frown. He was so monotone, so emotionless, like he was a goddamn robot sitting across from me.

"What?" I asked, noticing his mood shift.

His lifted an eyebrow at me.

"What's wrong?" I reiterated.

He sighed, turning his phone off. He couldn't look at me, didn't want to. "You were right," he breathed.

"Hmm?"

Blue eyes met brown and for the first time since meeting him, I didn't see an unbridled rage. I saw a real sadness that clouded his vision and caused him to look away whenever he saw me.

"The shite you said earlier. You were right, apparently."

He passed his phone over to me to show me the same article I had been reading in the bathroom.

"I didn't know," he finally spoke, his voice quiet, ashamed.

"I didn't think you did."

"Sienna... she died a hero and this fucking article uses her death as a playing card... like she didn't even matter."

I was quiet for while. A long while. I didn't know what else to say. Maybe "sorry the chick you cared about was used to fuck me and my team over?'

"I'm sorry," I finally spoke, hoping he couldn't hear my voice crack.

"You already said that."

"Doesn't mean I can't say it again."

One beat. Two beats. "I know."

"You and Sienna were together weren't you?" I asked, hoping I wasn't trampling all over territory I shouldn't be on.

He sucked in a breath. "... no. No, we weren't... but I wanted to be."

"I get why you hated me when I first showed up. I know what it looked like."

He nodded. "I didn't expect you to fight back as much as you did," he laughed.

"Well, I'm known for being the bitch of my team."

He smirked, folding his hands together in front of his mouth. "That article, that's not something new is it?"

I sighed. "It's new to this extent. We've never been threatened to be shut down before, but we always get the daily dose of public hate and bad media. That's been around since we've been around."

"How did I never see-" 

The loud burst of Tommy's ringtone was enough to make him jump, cutting him off from finishing. Glancing at the caller name before answering, he breathed out a sigh and said, "McConnel."

He was listening for most of their three minute conversation, his features giving nothing away to me. But, who was I to eavesdrop? I didn't know who was calling, and it clearly wasn't my place to. 

I hung my head down to absentmindedly pick at my nails while my eyes drifted to the train window, staring at the forever passing blue sky.

"Are you serious?" He asked, sounding awestruck. I turned my eyes up to him, but his expression stayed emotionless, intently listening to whatever this person was telling him.

"Yeah... yeah, I'll tell her... we're almost there, man... yes, we'll let you know... okay, great. See ya soon, mate."

Tommy hung up the phone, sighing as he slid it into his back pocket. "That was Sebastian," he started, causing me to look up. "Said that the killer in Germany had used polonium 210. It was in that vial in the apartment and they said there were traces on a wine glass."

"Placed it in his drink," I finished, putting together the pieces. "Ingested, that can kill quick and quiet. No one will be able to hear them when their airways are obstructed with a poison like that. Not to mention it's not too easy to see if you aren't looking for it."

He nodded, cracking his knuckles. "He said to question the woman we're about to see about it. Said the reason she's probably so sick is because she had contact with it."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Also how the hell do you get polonium?" I asked, causing him to shrug.

"Black market? On-the-corner drug dealers? Probably wouldn't be that hard."

"I just... that's too reckless. These people sure as hell aren't professionals."

He still seemed lost, leaning in with an eyebrow raised for me to keep going. 

"Polonium was used to kill a Russian spy in London in 2006. The radiation was so strong that it forced a nightclub and a restaurant to shut down for safety and over seven hundred people came into contact with it. If you use that, you're fucking over a lot of people, especially at a party like they were at, and the whole world is going to be on your ass. They're not smart. Probably just got the polonium off some random guy who said it would work. These people aren't professional at all. They may not be newbies, but they're definitely getting progressively dumber as they work."

He nodded. "I'll let Sebastian know." Pulling out his phone he dialed the number and they got to talking for another five minutes.

I simply waited for the train to pull into the station. I felt his eyes on me the whole rest of the way, yet I failed to keep any more conversation.

~~~

The hospital made my skin crawl. I hugged my coat even closer around my chest, cringing at the uneven quietness of the building as we stalked through it.

"You alright?" Tommy asked, turning to me as he walked ahead.

"Yeah, just not the biggest fan of hospitals."

"Bad experience?"

"Who hasn't had a bad experience in a hospital?" I asked, shoving my hands in my back pockets as we stood.

He nodded, checking his phone for the room number of the patient we were searching for.

I shivered, a jolt of cold running down my spine as he said, "this is the room."

Ocean eyes turned to me, and for a splint of a second, I was sure I saw a hint of worry as he watched my uneasy gait.

"Do you want my coat?"

I was caught off guard by the question, noticing that I was tugging my shirt sleeves down to hide my prickled arms.

"No. No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure it's just a dislike?" He asked, quietly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Since when did you care?"

Immediately, his kind aura retreated back into his rough shell. I internally cursed myself for being so stubborn with him, knowing the moments of comfort he showed, I grew to love almost instantly.

Tommy didn't seem to be a terrible guy. Just one that had a hard exterior. One that felt the need to protect himself and those around him.

"Never mind that I asked then," he finished abruptly.

He stepped to the side, allowing me to be the first to open the door. As soon as I spotted the woman we had been looking for, my heart dropped. She laid, half dead, in her hospital bed. Her eyes had sunken in, her hair fallen out. She could barely move.

I didn't even know how to start, what to say. I wasn't the people person in my group. I was the one who sat back and did the dirty work nobody else wanted to do... autopsy results, morgue visits, translators, and undercover operations that could get you killed if you held the wrong finger up at the wrong time.

Her eyes were closed, her weight tossing as she attempted to sleep. I didn't want to wake her.

"Hi," I softly spoke.

Her eyes opened slowly, glancing around the room before spotting Tommy and I standing in front of her hospital bed.

She squinted at me, and that's when it hit me that we were in Germany with a German victim. She wouldn't know English and even if she did, I couldn't expect her in her own country to speak a different language to me.

A haze of red spread across my cheeks as I saw my mistake.

"Das tut mir leid. Englisch ist meine Hauptsprache. Ich habe nicht nachgedacht." (I'm sorry about that. English is my main language. I wasn't thinking.)

Her smile grew as she heard me speak. I didn't even catch Tommy's mouth practically hitting the floor.

"Hallo," (Hello) I fixed, a smile breaking out on my face when she huffed out a laugh.

"Ich bin Katya und das ist Tommy. Wir sind vom Internationalen Strafgerichtshof und glauben, dass Sie Recht haben, wenn Ihr Arbeitgeber vergiftet wird." (I'm Katya and this is Tommy. We're from the International Criminal Court and we believe you're right about your employer being poisoned.) I gestured over to Tommy, where he struggled to smile.

"Sie ... sie sagten, ich sei verrückt." (They... they said I was crazy.) She breathed out, her chest struggling under the weight of her words. Her eyes met mine, fearful.

"Du bist nicht. Wegen dir können wir jetzt ein Monster aufhalten. Du bist ein Held." (You're not. Because of you, we're now able to stop a monster. You're a hero.)

There was a brief silence, one I didn't want to leave longer than I needed to.

"Darf ich mich setzen?" (May I sit?)

She slowly nodded, her finger pointing to the bed next to hers.

"Bitte." (Please.)


	7. Chapter 7

The air was thinning. That or it had something to do with my racing heartbeat. My eyes kept glancing over to the heart rate monitor right next to this woman's bed. I tried so hard to ignore it, the subtle, tired beeping that made my breath hold in my throat when it took too long between intervals. She didn't seem to notice, however, her eyes glued to the wall directly in front of her as we talked. 

"Erinnerst du dich, ob kürzlich jemand deinen Arbeitgeber besucht hat?" (Do you remember if anyone came to visit your employer recently?) 

She shook her head, eyes vacant as she struggled to answer. 

"Niemand?" (No one?)

"Nein?" (No.)

"Wissen Sie, ob im Haus etwas fehlt?" (Do you know if anything is missing from the house?)

I wrung my fingers together, it suddenly becoming too warm as I watched the heart rate monitor run even slower than before. I couldn't even think to glance over at Tommy, not when this woman needed my attention.

She gulped down a breath before stating, "Nichts wurde bewegt oder verändert bis auf diese Phiole." (Nothing was moved or changed except for that vial.)

I nodded, my palms sweaty. "Die Phiole?" (The vial?) 

She jerked her head forward, in a spasmic agreement, before closing her eyes and mumbling out a "hmm."

"Sind Sie in direkten Kontakt mit der Flüssigkeit im Inneren gekommen?" (Did you come into direct contact with the liquid inside?) I asked, my tone forming more serious as I could tell she was drifting off. "Hast du es angefasst oder getrunken?" (Did you touch it or drink it?)

The pause in the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "Ich habe es gerochen." (I smelled it.)

"Du hast es gerochen?" (You smelled it?) 

She nodded, "Ja." (Yes.)

"War es so nah, also hat es dich berührt?" (Was it up close, like this, so it touched you?) I demonstrated by holding my fingers up to my nose, the tips just grazing my skin. A piece of me was hoping for her to say no, shake her head, and say she made a mistake. That she didn't smell it, and that she just remembered wrong, and that she'd survive this. But, as soon as she nodded, eyes closed, almost ashamed at her actions, my heart dropped into my stomach. 

She huffed out a breath, voice nervous as she asked, "Werde ich sterben?" (Am I going to die?) She attempted a smile to lighten the dreadful atmosphere, but I knew she was terrified to her core by the way her voice wavered. 

I opened my mouth to bring the bad news, knowing I couldn't lie to this poor woman, but Tommy seemed to have beaten me to it, quietly promising a "Nein, madam." 

I rested my elbows on my knees, head in my hand as I listened to what he said. While part of me wondered how he even knew what to say, the other part wondered how stupid he could be to say it. This woman was on her death bed. She'd have less than hours, the doctors had told us, and I didn't personally believe her last breath should be built out of broken hope that she was told she would make it. She didn't deserve to be fed a lie as her last conversation. She didn't deserve to have false hope handed to her by a stranger and then be stripped of it so soon.

She broke out into a smile, glancing over to me as she laughed. "Er ist genau wie mein erster Ehemann. Ein gutes Herz, aber ein schlechter Lügner." (He's just like my first husband. A good heart, but a bad liar.)

I truly struggled not to glare down at Tommy, but as soon as the woman lying in front of me closed her eyes and sunk into the mattress, I lost all sense of anger that had previously been.

Her discomfort evaded her as she tossed and turned on her bed, eyes closed with pain. I offered my hand to her, resting on the bed covers, to which she quickly took it and squeezed. 

I knew that she was close to the end when we arrived, but I had no idea I'd be the one holding her hand when she went. It was as peaceful as it could've been, which isn't saying much, and when the monitor played that continuous beep and her body relaxed, her grip on my hand gently released. 

Nurses flooded the room not long after, working to disconnect her from the various machines they had used to try and keep her alive. My body stayed glued to my spot, even when I retracted my hand from hers. People had died before. I'd seen death, hell that was practically my job at this point, but nothing ever prepares you for how much you see it, for how unfair it is.

A light hand on my shoulder was enough to shake me, but not to move me. 

"We have to go now, Katya."

Tommy was talking to me, but I didn't register anything he said, my eyes still absentmindedly gazing at the scene in front of me. 

"Hey, Katya," he tried again, leaning down to my eye level. As soon as he moved down into my view, I struggled to meet his eyes, glancing down at the white tiled floors. I jumped when his other hand found my knee. "It's time to go." 

I finally nodded, rubbing my hands down my face before standing up, wishing the nurses a good day, and following Tommy out to the car. 

~~~

On the train back to The Hague, we were quiet. We were supposed to arrive by early morning, 4:00 a.m. to be exact, and since we left at ten, I wanted to catch up on sleep, even if it would only be six hours. After responding to a call from Khione asking how everything was going as well as discussing their options of dismissal and turning me down at least five times to come back, I took my jacket off, leaning it under my head as a makeshift pillow. 

Tommy didn't seem to be sleeping, but he wasn't doing anything either. Just sitting, minding his own business, tucked away in his own thoughts. I didn't mind as long as we could keep the fighting to a minimum. 

And lo and behold, the one time I want to sleep, I can't. After tossing and turning for about an hour, I had resorted to the knowledge that sleep just wasn't going to happen for me. Frustrated, I tucked my jacket into the seat next to me, sighing as I rested my head in my hands. 

"You alright over there?" Tommy's voice quietly asked. 

"Can't sleep," I mumbled, eyes closed, hoping to get an unexpected power nap at the very least.

"You don't have to sleep all curled up. You have two chairs," he offered.

"I don't think the way I'm sleeping is what's keeping me awake," I responded.

"No?"

"I used to be able to fall asleep on the hardwood floor of our meeting room back in Tokyo. I can sleep on anything."

He huffed out a laugh. "Mind occupied then?"

"A little."

"I would ask with what, but every time I do that, you seem to have a 'why would you care' at the ready."

"Because I genuinely wonder why you give a fuck."

"Maybe because we're partners and have to work together."

"You most definitely did not think like that when we met."

"A man can't have a change of heart?"

"And when I see one that does, I'll let you know."

There was a pause and I was sure he was done talking. I was sure I could just try to sleep again and maybe this time it would work. But no.

"I know I owe you an apology."

"And yet, here I am, without one."

"Well, you're not really giving me a chance."

That's when I moved my head up to finally look at him. "Well, then hit me with it." He was smiling, smirking like this was all some fun game to him. When he remained silent, arms crossed, leaned back in his seat, I said, "Go fuck yourself."

"What?" He laughed. 

"Do you get off on being a dick? Like what's up?" 

"You're the one going on the offensive here."

"And _you're_ the one who gave me shit the second you first saw me, so checkmate."

He raised his hands up in surrender, opting to stay quiet. 

"And you don't even fucking know me," I finished, eyes focused on the passing night as it whipped by the train window. 

"I'd like to."

"Start with an apology and then maybe we'll talk," I responded, too tired to argue anymore. 

Tommy didn't speak to me the entire rest of the trip and at 3:34 a.m. I was finally able to go to sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

My legs felt like they were holding up bricks and here I was, walking into work. I had truly failed to get any sleep the night prior, getting in to the station at four and not getting home until five. And don't even get me started on coming in at eight. I was practically a zombie, clutching onto my coffee like my life depended on it, because as far as I could tell, that morning, it did.

Dropping my bag onto my desk, I noticed only Major was in yet. He gave a good morning wave to me, but I could tell he was strained, stressed about something. 

Walking up to his desk, I asked, "Everything okay, Major?" 

He looked up at me, a calloused hand running over his mouth. "Yes. Anne-Marie had to be taken to the hospital this morning but-"

"What? Why?"

"She checked herself out of the hospital. She has a broken rib."

"And she was working?"

He nodded. "Against doctors' wishes, but yes."

"She's going to be okay, right?" 

Major smiled, maybe a reassurance to both of us. "Yes."

~~~

Two hours later and everyone had filed in, Eva bolting down the stairs to ask about Anne-Marie. My guess was everybody already knew about what happened and I was just the outlier because I was new.

Everyone had about the reaction I thought they would, all disappointed at her decision to leave when instructed not to, but worried for her safety nonetheless.

While this exchange was going on, I was unpacking my boxes onto my desk to finish my "moving in." The thought of two boxes at work had my mind spinning at the fifteen I had yet to unpack at my new apartment. The thought stressed me out, but rummaging through old photographs of friends and family seemed to calm the void.

We were supposed to meet at two to go over what we had with Major and where to go next, but the hours were moving at a snail's pace and I spent most of them alone.

It's not that I hated being the lone wolf of this new team, but I missed the family I had back in Tokyo. We could joke around all day and still get the work we needed done, and frankly, I missed that. Being in a new place with nobody you know is something I've done before and I've made it through, but something about this time was different.

Finishing up my last box, I didn't even recognize Sebastian coming over to my desk.

"Making yourself at home?" He asked, a kind smile on his face.

"I guess you could say that."

"I know you haven't been here long, but I hope you're doing alright, with everything and everyone. If you need anything, I'm always available," he offered, hands in his pants pockets.

"Thank you, Sebastian," I grinned, happy that at least someone was glad I was here.

His eyes drifted over to my picture frames, one being a collage of friends from work and the other being a big family photo back in Russia.

"This your family?" He asked, shocked as he counted up to twelve members.

"Yeah," I laughed. "We were kinda known for being over the top."

"All sisters?"

I nodded.

"I don't know if I could ever survive with that many kids."

"I'm not entirely sure my parents did."

A grin formed on his lips as his eyes drifted over to my last photo frame, the one of me and Rhett. He was smiling, holding me on his shoulders as my six year old grin beamed above. I was holding a trophy. I can't remember for what. Maybe dance? Skiing? The blue sky and green grass in the background made me think dancing, even if I was wearing jeans and a purple t-shirt. His brown hair was matted down with sweat across his forehead, the sun shining on the droplets in his light beard. But his eyes were happy. Dim hazel that shined with pride. 

"Your father, I'm guessing?" He asked, eyes peering up at me, curious.

"No," I answered, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "He's like a father to me. He was there when my dad couldn't be."

"Well, he looks like part of the family to me."

"Sebastian, can I have your help for a second? The main computer is down and I don't know how to get it back up," Eva's voice called out as she walked up to Sebastian, a smile gracing her features as she caught my eye.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." He turned to me saying, "It was nice to get to talk to you, Katya."

"You too."

And with that they walked off together, however, I was left with a smile on my face that maybe I was actually starting to make it work here.

~~~

"The Amsterdam victim had an original Van Gogh stolen by fake paramedics."

I stayed glued to my seat, twirling a pen between my fingers as I watched Carl and Sebastian break their case study down in front of us like a high school lecture. 

"And the owner's glass of wine was drugged," Sebastian finished, the video of the "paramedics" wheeling their gurney down a hallway playing behind him soundlessly.

"There was a metal tracer on the back. They took it out and replaced the painting with a forgery."

My eyes narrowed at the TV screen, when they pulled up a photo of their suspects. The woman was as rememberable to me as a nail in the wall but the man... I knew his face, but where had I seen him before?

"We tracked our main poison suspect, an Irish woman, to a fashion show and party where she met the Amsterdam victim. We have no lead on her whereabouts nor the man to her left who she spoke to repeatedly. His face could be one of the bogus paramedics who came to the apartment but there's no facial recognition of him anywhere."

"No criminal record?" Tommy asked, standing up from his chair.

"He keeps bad company," Hickman said, switching the slide to a photo of a photographer at the show. "This man-" another slide and we were met with mugshot pictures. "-Is this man. Marcus Staam, Dutch National: Foot soldier career criminal with links to a Russian mob figure named Dmitrov."

I perked up at the name, eyes wide as the man on the screen came back to memory. A friend. A colleague. A man to do the dirty work and get paid close to nothing. 

"Dmitrov. Are you sure?" Louis repeated, making sure he heard correctly. 

"Yeah, name mean something to you?" Hickman asked.

"I know who he is."

"Seems like Mikhailov does too." Tommy's voice cut the silence and all eyes turned to me. I almost shot up and nailed him for the inevitable question they were all going to shove down my throat of how I knew him, but the look in his eyes when I glared up at him, completely normal except there was, dare I say, concern somewhere in there? 

"You know who Dmitrov is?" Louis asked, tone hard and sharp, like he knew how fucked up he was as much as I did. 

Eyes were staring me down and the air was starting to break apart into nothing. I didn't think this is where it would go. I didn't think they would bring me here for Russian information on people who would torture you for even thinking about giving it. 

My voice was quiet when I answered, raspy yet soft. "Yes."

I watched as the faces in the room softened at my new tone. They could see it. They weren't stupid. I was scared of this man. This man and anyone he happened to be associated with.

"Do you know who this man is?" Hickman asked, switching back the pictures to their suspects.

I nodded, eyes narrowing on the man on the screen. "There's a reason you can't find any history on him. Any identification. He's Russian."

Sebastian explained the answer to the question practically everyone had. "Russia is the only country in Europe to completely lock up their facial recognition, their criminal records. Any information about any person we would never be able to find."  
  
"They locked all that shit up years ago," I added. "They were scared about this right here." I pointed over to the photo on the screen. "They don't want anyone from anywhere finding out anything."

"Not to mention Russia's one of the hardest countries in the world to get in and out of, and no one from the outside knows anything. News articles, internet stories, even cultural celebrations. Nobody has anything past the 80's when they split away from the rest of the world into solitude."

"So we know nothing about this guy?" Eva asked, standing against the wall next to me.

"I mean nothing that," Sebastian weakly pointed at me from the front of the room. "Katya wouldn't know."

All eyes on me again and the pressure was starting to eat at me. "I don't remember a name, but I know the face. He used to play at my table in Morocco." 

Everyone's faces went completely confused with Louis being the only one actually knowing what I used to do for my own government. 

"Play at your table?" Eva asked.

"Like gambling?" Sebastian went next, allowing me to nod and agree when he hit the nail on the head.

"When I worked for the Russian Republic, I was used as an undercover operator to detain people attached to the Russian mob. They had me working a poker table, a different country a night, where they knew Russians were dealing. They set me up in a hotel, had the first buy in at $200,000 so only the richest could make it in, and when the night was said and done, they'd wait about a month to detain them with the information I was given throughout the night so they couldn't connect anything to me."

They weren't really shocked more so as they seemed impressed. Eva smiled, mumbling "damn" under her breath, while Hickman and Sebastian shared a look. 

"And you got all your information just... from them? They just gave it up?" Tommy asked, bewilderment etched into his features as he stared me down. He was just as surprised as the rest of the team.

"If there's any place for men to talk, it's at a poker game," I explained, crossing my legs and leaning back into my chair.

"I'm surprised you're still alive after that. They never caught you?" 

"I was given a fake name and a fake association to one of the underground mobs of the St. Petersburg area. People hadn't heard from them in ages so they had no reason to tell me I was a liar. And they don't shoot when you have a mob tie."

"That's suicide for them," Eva finished. 

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, turning just as I saw the inkling of a smile forming on his lips.

"Do you think you'll be able to recognize this guy? Anything to jog your memory?" Hickman asked. 

"All I remember was that he played at my table in 2015 in Morocco for three nights. I have all the old spreadsheets of the money they put in, lost and owed, but I handed it over to the government and I doubt they'll let me have access. The amount of money he spent could correlate to who he's associated with. I know Dmitrov is one of the richest people in Russia's underground so he would have spent the most money easily."

"Well, our best lead so far comes from our dead German's computer files. He had everything in his house tagged with traces, even the non-valuables," Sebastian finished, letting everyone take a step off of me for a second. I nodded in appreciation and he gave me a quick smile in return.

"Local police checked the victim's art. Turns out a Vermeer was stolen and replaced with a fake," Tommy said.

"Since they couldn't find the tracer, we tracked the Vermeer to a warehouse, fifteen miles outside of Amsterdam. Painting spent five days there before being transported to Saudi Arabia. Mapping suggested derelict but electrical and gas usage says someone's living there."

"Let's go introduce ourselves," Louis decided, causing all of us to pack up our stuff and start to head out to the cars. 

Grabbing my coat off the chair of my desk and heading for the stairs, Tommy's voice caught me, teasing, "Never met a woman who played poker to put away fugitives."

"You probably never met a woman who made hundreds of thousands of dollars doing it either."


End file.
